


A Kind of Magic

by my1alias



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Female and Male Crowley, Freddie Mercury - Freeform, M/M, Male Aziraphale, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my1alias/pseuds/my1alias
Summary: Set in 1970, Aziraphale and Crowley have both been tasked to find a band that will have influence over the humans of the time. Both of them were pointed in the same direction by their human operatives; the band Smile.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8
Collections: Love and Lust Through the Ages Volume II





	A Kind of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> Many thanks to all the betas, of whom there were so many that I've completely forgotten who they all are.

“Angel?” asked Crowley, spotting a blond crew member hefting a heavy speaker into position for Smile’s performance. “Is that you?”

Aziraphale gently placed the speaker into position and straightened, blinking at the speaker. She was tall, lithe, wearing a jumpsuit with wide leg trousers and a neckline so low that he could see the protrusion of her xiphoid, not to mention the soft swell of her breasts. Her long red hair was smooth and straight and hung all the way down to her delicate chain link belt. All of this was observed in an instant, as Aziraphale recognized his old friend.

“Crowley?” he breathed with a beaming smile. “What a pleasant surprise! We shall have to catch up after I finish helping set up.”

Flicking a section of hair smoothly over her shoulder, Crowley frowned in confusion. “Did something happen to the bookshop? Why are you here?”

“Shh!” Aziraphale put his finger to his lips and glanced around the empty room. “The walls have ears. We can talk in a few minutes. Have a—”

“Zira, darling!” came a new voice from the front door. “I have some new accoutrements for the show tonight. Do you think you can work your magic and set them up— hello, who is this?” The newcomer didn’t even pause for breath, eyeing Crowley up and down. “That suit was made for you and you for it! Give us a turn, love. Foxy mama!” He let out a low whistle.

Crowley turned, hissing a silent  _ MAGIC? _ at Aziraphale, who shook his head fondly.

“The way you fill that out is sheer perfection, darling. It hugs you in all the right places, although it doesn’t look like you have any wrong places.” All this was said without the leers Crowley was used to getting while she was female.

“Farrokh, may I introduce you to—”

“Antonia,” Crowley interrupted quickly.

“Antonia, Farrokh is studying fashion design—”

“Was,” cheerfully interrupted Farrokh. “I’m studying graphic art and design now.”

“—and has the most impressive vocal range.” Aziraphale scooped the box out of Farrokh’s arms and placed it on the edge of the stage. “Let’s see what you brought me.”

After setting up everything in the box to Farrokh’s exact specifications, which did not involve magic of any means, Crowley and Aziraphale bade farewell to the aspiring singer and retired to the book shop.

“What are you doing, Angel?” Crowley rounded on her friend the moment the door was closed behind them. “And dressed like THAT?”

Aziraphale looked down at his pale blue button-up, top three buttons undone, and his high-waisted beige trousers. “I’m undercover!” he exclaimed with a little wiggle of his shoulders. “This isn’t particularly my style, but I saw one of the band members wear exactly this outfit, in different colours mind you, the other week!” His smile dropped. “What, don’t you like it?”

“No, no, I didn’t say that, Angel.” Crowley tried desperately to keep her eyes away from the delightfully furry blond chest that was on display. She only partially succeeded. “It’s just a far cry from your usual... attire.”

“I’m  _undercover_ ,” Aziraphale said again, with more emphasis. He looked very proud of himself. 

“But why are you  _there_? With a band?” Crowley crossed her arms and bit her lip nervously. “That particular band?” 

Aziraphale frowned. “Bebop. I know.” He sighed. “I can appreciate their musicality, but they are a little too loud for my tastes. I’m there on a mission. Two, actually.”

Crowley’s eyebrows rose. “Two, in the same place?”

“Well, sort of.” It was Aziraphale’s turn to worry at his lip. “This stays between us? No going back to head office?”

“Of course, Angel.” Crowley removed her sunglasses to show her sincerity.

“A couple weeks ago, I got a regular order from Gabriel. ‘Find a band that will influence humans towards good.’ So I asked around for bands that were already doing good, you know, within Soho. And then, a couple days later, a second order came down. ‘Focus your efforts on Smile. Keep an eye out for Young, and ensure he meets Daisy.’ Except  _ this _ one wasn’t signed.” Aziraphale frowned in thought. “Gabriel always signs his orders. I guess this one slipped through1.” He shrugged. “I found Smile, the band. I haven’t met anyone named Young yet, or Daisy, but I’m sure they’ll show up sometime soon.”

“That’s unusual, focussing on specific individuals,” mused Crowley. “And just that they must meet? How odd.” She gave herself a little shake. “Even odder, but I’m supposed to find a band for my side, too. Smile was suggested to me by one of my human operatives.”

“Well, we can certainly spin the result in our reports in our favour, as long as Smile does well enough.”

Crowley hummed in agreement. “Shall we check out the band this evening?”

“I’ve heard them. They’re good, especially the guitarist and the drummer, but they’re missing something.” Aziraphale wrung his hands together. “I’m glad you’re here. Maybe you’ll know what it is.”

Later that evening, when the band arrived on the stage, Crowley leaned towards Aziraphale. “Where’s the singer?” she shouted to be heard in the loud room.

“They don’t have one.” Aziraphale looked puzzled. “Do they need one? The great composers of the past didn’t always use a singer.”

Crowley shook her head fondly. “With music now, you pretty much always need a singer. If you want to be famous, anyways.” She wiggled her fingers. “What was the name of that human we were talking with earlier? You said he had a good range. Have you heard him sing?”

“Oh yes, Farrokh is quite impressive!” Aziraphale wiggled in delight. “Do you think he could be the key?”

“Quite possibly.” Crowley smiled. “We need a singer; someone who will draw attention. Someone charismatic. I think Farrokh will fit the bill quite nicely.”

They both looked over to the corner where Farrokh was holding court, his shoulder-length hair tousled. A large group of all types of humans were surrounding him, jockeying for the coveted place of honour — getting to sit next to him during the band’s set.

“I can’t think of anybody better, my dear.” Aziraphale approved. “How should we go about getting him to join the band?”

“Leave it to me. I have a plan.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“I’m still not sure how you did it,” marvelled Aziraphale. “But job well done.”

“Pssh.” Crowley waved a hand in the air. “A demon never reveals his secrets.” He leaned in conspiratorially, his new mustache tickling Aziraphale’s ear. “But if you must know, it only took a suggestion, not a temptation.”

This evening, they were sharing a table and waiting for the newly minted band to take the stage. The bassist of Smile had quit when Farrokh joined. There had been a pause while the band looked for a new bassist, but they had succeeded, and now they were ready to perform for the first time in front of an audience.

Aziraphale rubbed his hands down his thighs, anxious in spite of himself. He glanced at his companion, dressed in almost the exact same outfit as the last time they had met, albeit in black. It fit him like a glove. “Do you think it will work? That they’ll be famous, I mean?”

“You haven’t heard them rehearse, have you?” Crowley smirked. “Farrokh— I mean, Freddie has had a very good influence on the others. Their music is incredibly unique and compelling. You’ll be able to tell Heaven that they sing about love and acceptance, and I’ll be able to tell Hell that they’re drawing millions into their music.”

Aziraphale nodded, his hands fluttering up to tweak his non-existent bow tie. He tugged on his collar instead. “Thank you.”

“You look groovy, Angel.” Crowley gave him a cursory glance over. He had opted for a shimmery shirt paired with high waisted black trousers. The gold of his chest hair was competing with the gold of the shirt and Crowley was grateful for his sunglasses; he was able to look his fill without coming off as creepy. “Better than fine. You’ll have to beat the girls off with a stick.”

Wrinkling his nose, Aziraphale looked down at himself. “Should I change? I’d rather not inspire lust.”

“Too late,” Crowley whispered under his breath.

“Mind if I sit with you?” interrupted a quiet voice. “I’m Daisy. Daisy Smith.”

“Of course, my dear!” Aziraphale jumped out of his seat to pull back a third chair for her. “How very nice to meet you. Actually,” he looked around for a second, trying to spot the new bassist’s friend who had come for moral support. “There is someone who I’d like you to meet. Ah, there he is.” He raised his voice to be heard by the bar. “Arthur! Over here!”

Arthur Young2 joined them and Crowley shifted seats so that the two humans could sit next to each other.

Aziraphale introduced them, and, realizing that they wouldn’t be missed by the two young humans making heart eyes at each other, beckoned to Crowley to join him. “Excellent!” he said with a satisfied twitch of his shoulders once they were safely ensconced backstage. “Young and Daisy have been introduced. The band is about to become famous. Two jobs done in less than a month. I couldn’t have done it without you, my dear.”

Crowley shrugged. “It was hardly difficult. Helped me too.”

“This really is much more your scene, isn’t it? You fit in here, especially with the clothing…”

“You really do look amazing in those threads, Angel,” murmured Crowley reassuringly, mustache tickling his ear again as he leaned in close. A hand ghosted up Aziraphale’s arm, barely touching the fabric. He felt him shiver, the air between them electric. He pulled back to find Aziraphale’s eyes trained on his mouth. “Angel…?” he breathed, afraid to break the moment.

“Crowley—”

“Zira— Oh, my apologies darling,” Freddie had arrived and spotted them, greeting his friend before fully noticing the intimate moment.

Crowley turned, and Freddie’s eyes widened, as did his smile. “How lovely, darlings. As you were. Enjoy the show!”

The rest of the band arrived, breaking the moment further. Crowley shifted to stand beside Aziraphale, leaning against the wall.

“Ready? Three, two, one, QUEEN!” the band members shouted before taking the stage to raucous applause.

“Welcome to the premiere performance of the best band in the world, Queen!” shouted Freddie Mercury into the microphone as the other members got settled.

“Are you ready to watch history?” Crowley asked, sliding back into the easy camaraderie he shared with his hereditary enemy.

“With you? Always, my dear.” Aziraphale beamed.

1Actually, Gabriel had nothing to do with this order. It came from the top [ return to text ]

2Arthur and Daisy would go on to get married and have a son, also named Arthur. He’d be somewhat important at the end of the world [ return to text ]


End file.
